Kissing Frogs

Last night I was up until almost 2 a.m. by myself. Well that's not true, Punk was up too. We chatted online.

In addition to chatting with Punk, I killed another moth. A big one. It gives me the heebie geebies just to think about it. When I threw it in the garbage I noticed this on my back door.

Try not to be offended by his lack of pants. He didn't eat the forbidden fruit. He is blissfully unaware of his nudity and how he doesn't look as good as Heidi Klum when he's naked. Or even when I'm he's clothed.

Isn't he precious? With his sticky "hands", (what are hands on a frog called again?) and slimy body. It took everything I had not to buy a little tiny purse and carry him around in it. I could have gotten us matching sweaters.

I'm sure that harness is very comfortable. Plus with a frog I wouldn't have to worry about getting fur on my clothes or a sore shoulder. And seriously Asian girl, no one carries dogs anymore. It's all about the tiny frogs.

Aw, he's so tiny and cute. You know you want to touch him and love him and keep him forever and ever. He needs a cute name. What shall we name him? Fred, King George or perhaps Percival?

Something regal.

He is a Prince after all.